


Ass

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-12
Updated: 2006-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jimmy Wilson broke it off with him, Mike Tritter actually felt a little sad. He didn’t show it, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after episode 3-6 ("Que Sera Sera"); contains spoilers to that point. Warm regards to [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/), [](http://fallen-arazil.livejournal.com/profile)[**fallen_arazil**](http://fallen-arazil.livejournal.com/), [](http://nightdog-barks.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_barks**](http://nightdog-barks.livejournal.com/), and [](http://bironic.livejournal.com/profile)[**bironic**](http://bironic.livejournal.com/) for outstanding concrit.

The first time Jimmy Wilson broke it off with him, Mike Tritter actually felt a little sad. He didn’t show it, of course.

“Last night was… good. Really good,” Jimmy said over the phone. “But I can’t – I can’t do this.”

“Yeah, all right,” Tritter replied, his eyes scanning the squad room as a force of habit.

Jimmy hesitated. “It’s not you, it’s –”

“I got that it’s you.” Tritter shifted the gum in his mouth from the left side to the right. “You can’t do it.”

Jimmy seemed nonplussed by his composure, and that almost made Tritter laugh – obviously, Jimmy was too used to breaking up with women. He chomped on his gum instead of laughing, and asked, “Anything else?”

“Um, no.”

“Well, goodbye then. Have a good day.” He waited a polite few seconds for Jimmy to say farewell, in vain, then hung up the phone.

Forty-six hours later Jimmy was blowing him in the back of his squad car, behind a crappy strip mall, while his partner took a long lunch courtesy of Jimmy’s wallet. Such a considerate man.

 

The second time Jimmy Wilson broke it off with him, Mike Tritter felt a little pissed. Indecisiveness was a weakness he despised. Once again, though, he didn’t show it.

Jimmy had come to the station. While he was speaking to the desk sergeant, Tritter had given him a quick once-over: nicely-pressed shirt, fine tie, dress slacks just a smidge too tight, clinging to the ass where they should have been draping. A tad unprofessional, but it sent a jolt to Tritter’s groin anyway.

After Joe waved him back – Tritter wondered idly what feeble lie he’d used to explain his presence here – Jimmy hesitated in front of Tritter’s desk for a minute before taking the guest chair. The last ass to take that chair had been a young prostitute’s; considering whether hers or his had seen more action was a bit of excitement in what had previously been a rather boring morning.

“Good to see you,” Tritter remarked casually. “Did you want to grab some lunch? It’s a bit early, but I think I can swing it with my partner.”

“I can’t. I have an appointment soon.” Jimmy wasn’t meeting his eyes: bad sign. Something was up. “I just wanted to tell you –”

Tritter flattened his gum to the roof of his mouth and cut him off. “You can’t do this?”

Jimmy looked at him then, surprise widening those brown puppy-dog eyes. “How? How did you –”

The gum was losing its elasticity; he’d need another piece soon. “Seems to me I heard something like that – when was it? Two weeks ago?”

Jimmy looked away, looked down; sign of submission. Twin urges battled in Tritter’s body – to shrug and to hit this man upside the head. He shoved both urges aside – he was very, very good at control – and asked, “You want to tell me more about it this time? Or you just going to go?”

Jimmy’s left hand, his better hand, soft and strong at the same time, was rubbing the back of his neck. His thumb dragged across the shadow of a mark Tritter had put there the other night. The very excellent other night when Tritter had pounded Jimmy on Doctor Greg House’s bed.

 _The ass, those lovely globes spring to mind first in thinking of that night. It was one of the most gorgeous asses Tritter had ever had the pleasure of sliding his dick into. It was not completely taut, a bit of fleshiness there – lapsed gym membership, no doubt – but the shape was perfect and the skin was almost translucent and smooth like porcelain. He’d been feeling a compulsion to bite it, and he was not a biter. Tooth marks and DNA – wrong kind of evidence to leave._

 _They were well into this, sweat beading on his lip and on the curved back below him. The moans were picking up in pace, and urgency was singing along every muscle of the younger man’s body._

 _“Please,” was the breathy exhortation. “Please give me more.”_

 _Asking politely like that – now that was the kind of courtesy Tritter liked to reward. He pulled out to the head, adjusted his angle, and plunged back in. The quiver in the ass would have told him how much his reward was appreciated even if –_

“It’s House. He thinks you’re still after him.”

“I am.”

“He thinks you’re using me to get to him.”

Tritter sat forward, waited for Jimmy to look into his face. “Now that is a matter you have to decide. Dr. House doesn’t know the half of it, does he?” He kept his voice calm, neutral as always, and still Jimmy flushed, his breath catching.

 _They were getting close to the end. Jimmy, propped up on his forearms, hips firm under Tritter's hands, was practically humming with need. “Touch yourself,” Tritter ordered, and the speed with which Jimmy complied threw him off his pace a little. The shift in weight as Jimmy canted to the left, his left hand now occupied with something other than supporting himself, tugged against Tritter pleasantly. He took a second to appreciate the muscles lightly clenching around him and then shifted and sped up._

 _He was looking at that ass, that perfect ass, when something elsewhere in the room caught his attention. Jimmy was quiet, his face in the mattress, his hand working furiously, just as before. It was something else._

 _Tritter tore his eyes away from Jimmy and looked up, and there it was right in front of him: Dr. Greg House, pill-popping jerk, in the doorway of the bedroom watching them in shock. Tritter added a quick double-pump to his rhythm to get Jimmy to moan, and he did, the noise almost echoing._

 _Dr. House’s eyes widened a fraction but he didn’t move. Maybe he’d lost the capacity._

 _Tritter double-pumped again and that pushed Jimmy over the edge, groaning out “Mike” as he spilled all over Dr. House’s comforter. Jimmy pushed himself back along Tritter’s length and between that and the beautiful tightening of muscle, it was his turn to come. Tritter was silent, always silent, but there was no way Dr. House would mistake the sudden rigidity and the digging of his fingertips tighter into Jimmy’s hips for anything else._

 _He caressed Jimmy’s hips and ass and pulled out, and Jimmy collapsed onto the mattress. “Incredible,” he panted, his voice not terribly muffled by the comforter._

 _“Jimmy,” Tritter replied, never taking his eyes off Dr. House, “we’ve got company.”_

Jimmy shifted in his seat. “You’ve never asked me about House.” He looked up, smiled, lifted his shoulders a hair. “I mean, since the official interview, obviously.”

The interview was when Tritter had first met Jimmy in person. Immediately after, Tritter had taken him off his witness list and put him on another, more personal list. The next day, he'd done two things for the first time: willingly handed a case over to the DEA (possible prescription fraud at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital); and ravaged Jimmy's very eager mouth.

Straightening up, Tritter smiled back slightly, just a quirk to the edges of his lips. He rolled the gum in his mouth from side to side but didn’t say a word.

“And we, you and I, have a great time together. But it’s…”

 _Too confusing_ were the words Tritter sensed were really going through Jimmy’s mind. He knew Jimmy had conflicting motivations for getting involved, but wondered if Jimmy realized it. Probably not, and what was about to come of his mouth was likely bullshit.

“It’s just not right. I mean, you’re married.”

“And,” thought Tritter, “your hetero life partner is a drug-addicted, mentally abusive asshole. I can see the problem.”

 _Jimmy brought his nose out of the comforter, started, and then jerked up to a sitting position with amazing speed. Tritter smiled; he’d predicted that kind of reaction – it was why he hadn’t stayed inside Jimmy longer the way he preferred._

 _“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Dr. House._

 _“I thought you hated obvious questions,” Jimmy spat back as he pulled the bottom edge of the comforter over his lap. He was angry, defiant. Good. He’d bowed down to this jerkwad for far too long._

 _“I never ask obvious questions. If you’d used your brain, you would’ve noticed it was clearly an abbreviation. But since you’re an idiot, I’ll spell it out for you: What the hell compelled you to fuck that asshole in my bed?”_

 _Tritter was tempted to reply, “Because it’s tight and hot,” but it’s impolite to answer a question not addressed to you. Instead, he hooked a hand on Jimmy’s hip for balance and stretched over to grab a piece of gum from the pack he’d thrown on the nightstand._

 _“Because there wasn’t enough room on the goddamn couch you’ve got me living on!”_

 _The expression on Dr. House’s face was priceless – confusion and hurt and anger. Popping the gum in his mouth, Tritter rolled off the condom and tied it off, then slid down to a sitting position, right up next to Jimmy. He tightened his arm around Jimmy’s waist and gave him a kiss on the shoulder to encourage him. Well, to encourage him and to piss off Dr. House._

 _Dr. House turned his fury on Tritter. “This is an improper search of my home!”_

 _“Not searching. Already found what I want,” he replied and squeezed Jimmy lightly for emphasis._

 _“Trespassing, then. I can have you arrested.” Dr. House hadn’t moved from the doorway, but he was grinding into his cane with all his might – his palm was going to hurt like a bitch in a while. He’d be dry-swallowing pills all night if he kept that up._

 _Tritter smiled and shifted his hand to Jimmy’s hair, stroking it, playing with it. “Jimmy had a key. He allowed me to enter the premises. Invited me, even. You wanted me to enter, didn’t ya, Jimmy?”_

 _Jimmy put a hand out then and grabbed Tritter’s thigh without looking. His eyes had been riveted to Dr. House since first seeing him. That was all right. They had a thing to work out. It was about time for Tritter to be getting back home, anyway._

 _“I asked him here,” Jimmy said at the same time that Dr. House bellowed, “Get out!” The cacophony, followed by silence, was amusing._

 _Sliding off the bed, Tritter turned his back on Dr. House completely. “Jimmy, I gotta go.” He leaned back over the bed and kissed him thoroughly but almost lovingly. Jimmy returned the kiss with even more enthusiasm than usual; Tritter had to be careful not to lose his gum. ”I’ll call you.”_

 _“Dr. House.” Tritter nodded his farewell and slowly, deliberately walked past the man still stuck in the doorway._

 _As he was putting on his clothes in the living room, Tritter could hear the yells from the bedroom as clearly as if the two men were next to him._

 _“Screw your money problems; I never should have let you move in again. What the hell are you thinking? And what the hell have you told him about me? He’s the fucking stalker who’s trying to destroy me!”_

 _“Money problems are not why you asked me to move in. But you don’t control who I date, House! And if you want to talk about him behind his back, you should at least wait until he’s left the apartment!”_

 _Tritter straightened his tie and chuckled. He pulled the front door shut behind himself and briefly contemplated asking a uniformed to check up on a suspected domestic complaint. But Jimmy was a big boy; he could take care of himself._

“Jimmy, say what you mean. Don’t waste my time telling me what I already know.” Tritter looked up and caught his partner’s eye. He flicked his chin to let him know to wait just a minute. This would be over soon.

Jimmy took a deep breath, straightened up, remembered he had a spine. “It isn’t going to work, Mike,” he said firmly. “I can’t do this any more.”

“Yeah, all right.” Tritter stood and Jimmy followed, eyes widening slightly at the nonchalance.

 _Jimmy, Jimmy,_ Tritter thought, _don’t you remember two weeks ago? Or do you think you wooed me with your charms so elaborately that now I’m going to pine?_

He offered his hand to shake. “Thank you for coming in, Dr. Wilson. Your information will be a great help to us.”

Jimmy seemed confused for a moment but then noticed that Tritter’s partner, Toby Keller, had come up near the desk. He pulled himself together and delivered his last line just fine.

“My pleasure, Detective.” The handshake was warm, but didn’t last a fraction of a second longer than was proper.

As Jimmy was walking out the door, Keller noticed Tritter watching his ass. “You know,” he said quietly, “you can get in a lot of trouble for screwing someone you’re investigating.”

Tritter looked back, smiled, and nodded toward the break room. A cup of coffee was in order. “I’m not investigating Dr. Wilson; he’s not my case.”

His partner smirked. “Over-prescribing narcotics? Class A felony? Sound familiar?”

Pushing open the door to the empty break room, Tritter didn’t bother looking back. “It's the whole hospital, not just him. And it’s not my case, not even the precinct’s case. The DEA’s handling it all.” He poured the last of the coffee into cups for Keller and himself, and put the pot in the sink. Let the rookies make the next pot.

Keller took his coffee with a nod. “And screwing someone under investigation by the DEA is so ethical.”

Tritter flicked his gum into the trash can and sipped the coffee. It was crap, of course, but he wanted the heat and the caffeine more than anything else. “Innocent until proven guilty, Keller. It’s the cornerstone of our legal system. If they arrest him, I’ll stop banging him.”

Smirking again, Keller replied, “Tritter, you’re kind of a prick.”

“I am insulted. I’m not ‘kind of’ anything.” They made their way back to their desks. Cases to review, perps to catch.

Fifty-nine hours later, Jimmy came sniffing back around again.

 

The third through the sixth times Jimmy Wilson broke it off with him, Mike Tritter felt more than a little amused. He didn’t show it, of course.

He’d let Jimmy have his games, if it made him feel better, allowed him to cope. The getting-back-together sex was always hotter, nastier than the still-together sex, anyway.

Tritter had been turning it over in his mind this whole time, and he’d come to a few conclusions. Jimmy fell for men who wouldn’t love him back. No, wait, that wasn’t quite right. A complete absence of devotion turned Jimmy right off. It was that he fell for men who cared for him, but dosed out the caring in meager amounts.

He picked women who smothered him with love; he picked men who held it back, made him continually work for it. Adonis for the women; Sisyphus for the men. Got tiring, no doubt.

But Tritter was fine with being a boulder, as long as he got to taste that pretty mouth and plow that pretty ass. The conversation was fairly interesting, too. Jimmy had a decent enough mind, and a courteous enough demeanor, and a flirty enough smile. He wasn’t bad to be around.

So, Tritter let him have his rationalizations and his games; let him go off when he needed to. Besides, it wasn’t like they were in love or anything. Tritter had his wife for that.

 _Way back when, his new partner Keller had been amazed at the ease with which Tritter conducted his affairs._

 _“Your wife doesn’t care?” Keller said, zipping up his pants._

 _Flicking his lighter to a higher flame, Tritter took a long drag to light his cigarette. ”As long as I don’t get my dick near her, she doesn’t care where I stick it.”_

 _Keller shook his head and waved the smoke away from his face. “Great basis for a marriage.”_

 _The car window stuck for a second, but Tritter got it down enough to blow the smoke outside. You need to be courteous to your partner, even when he’s a wussy non-smoker who is inexpert with handjobs. “Not everything’s about sex, Keller.”_

 _“When did that change? And zip up your damn pants. We have to get going.”_

 _Tritter let the cigarette dangle from his lips as he adjusted and zipped up. “My wife’s a lovely woman; we have a solid marriage. Our individual outside interests make our time together that much better.”_

 _“You’re a romantic, Tritter.” Keller put the car into drive and pulled back onto the deserted dirt road._

 _Keller never did get better at mutual jerking off, so Tritter was not disappointed when they quit doing that. He kept right on picking up good-looking people of both sexes though, causing Keller to shake his head._

 _“You’ve never gotten any flak around any of your precincts for being bisexual?”_

 _“Why would I? I’m not bisexual.”_

 _“You stick your dick in guys.”_

 _“So my dick is bisexual. I didn’t see you complaining.”_

 _Keller snorted. “Jerk-off’s not the same thing. Every guy does that. You take it a lot farther.”_

 _Tritter took a slow drag from his cigarette and calmly stared Keller down. “I’m straight. I don’t love guys. I sure as hell would never marry a guy.”_

They were lying naked in bed together in a hotel room. It looked a hell of a lot like the room where they’d first met, even though it was a completely different hotel, completely different brand. Commodity, impersonal – but the mattress was supportive enough, and the sheets were soft.

Jimmy was half-sprawled on him, chin on Tritter’s chest, but he was staring off into nothing. Tritter pinched his ass lightly, teasingly, then tightened his arms around him.

“Hey, Jimmy, what’re you thinking about?”

Coming back to himself a little, Jimmy shook his head as if to sweep away cobwebs. “Are you going to arrest House again?”

Tritter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been hoping for a Round Two shortly, but talking about that bastard would definitely kill the mood. “Ongoing investigation; I can’t talk to you about it. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy turned his head away and nestled his cheek into Tritter’s chest. Tritter squeezed him again and dropped a kiss into his luxurious hair. This kind of tactile contact – not cuddling, men don’t cuddle – was getting easier and more comfortable every time. Natural, even.

When Jimmy was sure of a subject, his voice was quite a pleasure to listen to. That was the voice that rang out now. “There’s this woman I’m dating. She’s smart, pretty. We haven’t been seeing each other that long, but her lease runs out soon. I’m thinking about asking her to move in together. Not to get married, too soon for that, but this might be a good step for us.”

For the very first time since he'd laid eyes on Dr. Greg House, Tritter had an inkling of sympathy for him.

“She a good lay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jimmy rolled over within the circle of Tritter’s arms and pressed his naked back into Tritter’s side and chest so he could gesture with his hands. “Her breasts are good, nice size, mostly even. But her ass – god, you should see how gorgeous her ass is. Perfect shape, skin like porcelain.”

The only time Mike Tritter broke it off with Jimmy Wilson, he felt a little heartbroken. But at least it stuck.


End file.
